


Re: Ark Station

by snappy_nincompoop



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, i deleted this a while ago in a fit of self deprivation and all that fun stuff, if you think youve read this before you probably have!!, nonbinary!raven, so im reposting it now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:42:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8972452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snappy_nincompoop/pseuds/snappy_nincompoop
Summary: Clarke and Octavia are sent down before the rest of the 100.
(Drama ensues, and there's less idiocy and more grounder culture + fighting and general effort in the abilities of people on the ground. Cue badass Clarke and Octavia.)
(People don't die when they don't need to.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hello all!! i am the original author of this, so like, if you've read it before, that was me! as you can see in the tags, i deleted it when i wasn't really in a place to write more. i hope i can update more- i tend to be really busy, but i love writing. and, i have a few prewritten chapters to help with my general procrastination for anything resembling a project.
> 
> oh- i forgot to mention! i'm ravensjawline on tumblr, so feel free to talk to me!

It was Clarke’s mother, Doctor Griffin, who first knew about the second pregnancy. 

 

For months, Doctor Griffin would sneak extra rations, medical supplies, or anything that the Blake family needed. While she didn’t encourage a second child, she wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing.

 

She would come in the Blake’s room and make sure the baby developed. She couldn’t bring many supplies or much technology, only just enough to check health and disease possibilities. 

 

When Octavia was born, Doctor Griffin couldn’t be there. She was on call for a surgery, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried.

 

Little Clarke was a handful for Abby. Not that she didn’t love her, but trying to be the best surgeon is hard when you have a little girl to take care of. 

 

Clarke grew up in the medical wing. She’d cheer up patients when they looked like they were going to break. Sometimes, she’d see the same people come back again and again. Sometimes, someone would come in and leave right after, not needing to come back. Sometimes, they’d enter the wing and never walk out.

 

She didn’t understand why until much later, when Wells’ mother never walked out.

 

Clarke and Bellamy were friends outside of the room too, but were not seen together save for the library. Clarke and Bellamy had different friends. That didn’t stop him from protecting her. Whenever she was hurt, she’d turn to the Blake’s room to be comforted by her friends. 

 

Clarke also had Wells, but she didn’t connect with many girls like she did with Octavia. And besides, Bellamy was nice.

 

Clarke’s life was good, if not sometimes boring, until she was fifteen. She had overheard her father talking to a camera about the low oxygen levels. She waited until he had finished, and rushed over to him, demanding he let her help. Jake, her father, protested. 

 

He could never say no to the either of the two most important women in his life.

 

It was when Clarke was barely sixteen that her father was floated for almost revealing the low oxygen supply to the public. She hadn’t been caught as of yet. She had blamed Wells, who gladly admitted. She had yelled, screamed, and fought him until he had backed away in fear. Later, when she was in her room, she broke down in uneven hiccups, sobs, heart-wrenching cries. Her mother had come in to hold her, and to cry with her.

 

It was seven days after her father was floated that she found out it was her mother. 

 

The only reason she knew, was one day when she forgot her art supplies for lunch break, she heard her mother crying again. It was a common occurrence, so it didn’t worry her so much as make her chest tighten with grief. She moved to knock on the door, but heard her mother talking amidst her sobs, “It was my fault. I killed him. I floated my husband.”

Clarke could never look at her the same.

 

The next day, Clarke confronted her. She questioned her, begged her to say something, admit to why she had floated Clarke’s father.

 

The response Clarke got was, “You know why.”

 

She didn’t.

 

Not until later, when she was apologizing to Wells for her behavior, that she understood.

 

Because she got taken prisoner. 

 

Her own mother put her in a prison cell for helping her father, for trying to save the Ark, for trying to be the hero. 

___________________________________________________________________________________

 

Growing up, Bellamy and Clarke were Octavia’s only friends. Clarke would bring art supplies and books and toys for her to play with. The two girls became good friends quickly.

 

Octavia knew few things in her life: the things Clarke and Bell taught her, her mind, and her place under the floorboards. It’s not that she was ungrateful, because she loved and cared and hoped and dreamed with every fiber of her being, but she wondered. 

 

Would it have been better if she were never born?

 

Would people miss her is she were floated?

 

Will she spend her life wasting away under the same floors, day by day, year after year? 

 

She thinks she knows the answers. (Yes, no, and yes.)

 

That doesn’t stop her from dreaming.

 

Dreaming of a better place. Where she has all the air and room and space and freedom she could ever need. 

 

She had time to think. 

 

All day, locked in the same room, getting shoved under the floor at the same intervals each day.

 

She thought of what it would be like to run. To see space. To go to school. To eat lunch with new people. 

 

One day, when she was sixteen, Bellamy came up with a plan. 

 

He had become a guard, and he knew of a masquerade party taking place. He got her a mask, not the most beautiful, but she thought it was. 

 

He got her out of the room, into the open. She stared at the windows in wonder, the vast openness of space, the vibrant colors, the bright lights of stars, the stark contrast of the moon against the dark universe, the mighty nebulas, the grand sight that is Earth. She looked at the people, in so many sizes, varying shapes and races, some children, the faded colors of their clothes, their bright smiled as they greet one another, the mindless small talk, the engaged eyes gleaming at one another. She looked around the Ark, the rough panels of metal coating everything, seeming to suck the life and color and energy out of the people, the stale air that seemed new to her, the distant whirring of the engines that kept her up at night.

 

It was so new. 

 

So fascinating.

 

So different.

 

And, everyone took it for granted. 

 

She was interrupted, mid wonderment, mid thought, mid processing.

 

There was a solar flare.

 

Bellamy grabbed her shoulder and roughly started to pull her back to the room, her cell, her prison, when the general caught them.

 

“Blake! What are you doing?”

 

Octavia froze, unsure and unwilling to see how this would pan out. 

 

“I, uh, my scanner isn’t working sir. I was getting a new one.”

 

“Why are you taking her, then?”

 

“I was going to scan her ID, sir.”

 

“Well, I can do that. ID, please.”  


 

Octavia didn’t move. She glanced at her brother, panicking.

 

“I said ID, please Ma’am.”

 

Octavia seemed to gather the courage to speak. 

 

“I, uh, don’t have it with me.”

 

“Well, why not?”

 

“Because… I don’t have one.”

 

“I’m going to have to ask you to remove your mask now.”

 

She did. She was not recognized by anyone, for obvious reasons. 

 

She was put in solitary confinement. Far from any other people, except the cell next to hers labeled Clarke Griffin.

 

She was put in prison, real prison, for existing. 

 

Octavia knew to look on the bright side, especially when things can’t seem darker. 

 

At least the cell was bigger than her old hell. At least she gets scheduled meals. At least Clarke had taught her morse code, so they could talk without getting caught. At least she was given new clothes. 

 

She couldn’t help but look at the dark side either. Her mother was floated, right before her and Bellamy’s eyes. She and Clarke would be floated at eighteen, and there was nothing that could change that. 

 

She is a happy person. She prides herself on that. 

 

But you can’t help but be bitter, especially in these circumstances. 

 

(Octavia is sick and tired. Her brother is the reason of her death, she and her best friend will die no matter what, and Octavia was never supposed to be born. It’s hard to stay positive all the time.)


	2. Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Octavia make it to the ground.
> 
> Note: This chapter includes themes of claustrophobia, which is marked by these "***". If you are uncomfortable reading that, feel free to skip it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's me again.
> 
> I think this is it for my prepped things, unless I lost another file (not unlikely), so that means updates will be slow from now on. I have a break for the holidays, so I'm hoping to write a ton and then have some to post for hopefully a few months. We'll see how that goes.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Octavia POV

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

So, a prison cell isn’t that bad.

 

Well, in your opinion at least. It actually seemed like a luxury. Not the whole “I’ll get executed at 18” thing though, no, that sucks.

 

At least Clarke was next to you. Er, she’s actually in the cell next to you. Close enough, really.

 

You’ve got scheduled meals, which is nice. You didn’t always get consistent food growing up.

 

You get new clothes. Boring, grey and washed out denim. You don’t mind. 

 

What you do mind, is when the guards would come in. It’s nearing your seventeenth birthday, which means Clarke’s birthday right around the corner. 

 

She’ll be turning eighteen. 

 

That means she’ll be floated. 

 

Every time a guard enters, you’re struck with fear. First, because you’re just not used to people. Second, because you aren’t sure if they’ll decide to float Clarke today. In fact, you aren’t sure what day it is. 

 

You’re sitting on your cot, shoulders slumped against the wall. There isn’t much to do. 

 

Your ears perk up. You hear the tell-tale sound of heavy, clunking footsteps down the solitary confinement hallway. 

 

You suck in a sharp breath. 

 

The footsteps pass your room. You exhale.

 

You hear the footsteps come to an abrupt halt, the door grinding on the floor and hinges squeaking as it is opened. You hear the guard barking an order, but the sound is muffled due to the thick wall, and you hear a feminine voice protest.

 

Only one person would talk back to a guard. 

 

Clarke.

 

You hear her yelp, and the guard still talking. You hear two footsteps now, the same clunking one you heard before, and a stumbling and sliding mixture in which makes you assume Clarke isn’t willing.

 

They stop in front of your room. 

 

Your door swings open, and you see a gruff looking guard and a perplexed and annoyed Clarke Griffin. They seem to absorbed in their conversation to realize that you could hear. 

 

“Hey! Aren’t you listening! I’m not eighteen yet!”

 

He gives Clarke a glare that makes her struggle more. “Listen. You’ll get yourself killed if you don’t shut up. I’m here to help.”

 

“Yeah right. You’re here to float me, I bet. Well, tell Jaha he can suck my-“

 

“Your mother sent me. Quiet. I have to get her too.” He nods his head in your direction, and Clarke sees you for the first time in months.

 

“Octavia!”

 

She breaks free from his grip, and all but tackles you in a hug. 

 

You laugh, and you wrap your arms around her waist, squeezing her. You missed your best friend so much.

 

You hear the guard clear his throat. “We have to go. We don’t have much time to get you to Dr. Griffin.”

 

You feel Clarke flinch, but she steels her resolve. “Why?”

 

“She and Raven can explain.” You and Clarke stand there, waiting for him to elaborate, “Come on! Move it!”

 

He runs off, because an alarm has sounded because your cell doors are open. You and Clarke share a quick glance, and sprint after him. 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

You and Clarke stumble in the room he darted off to. You could barely keep up. 

 

You’re still bent over, hands on your knees and trying to regain your breath when you hear Clarke’s heavy breathing stop.

 

You straighten up, knowing who you’ll see. 

 

Dr. Abby Griffin.

 

Her mother gives a kind smile, but you think it looks forced.

 

“What was this all about mom? You want me to get killed faster?”

 

Her mother flinches at the words spit at her with more venom than Clarke ever used before.

 

“I’m trying to help you Clarke.”

 

Clarke scoffs, her smile broken and twisted, “Sure, help. What is it?”

 

Abby sighs, and gestures for Raven to take over.

 

“So, it’s a pod. To send you to Earth, because your mom knows you’ll get killed and she doesn’t want that. Get inside. We have,” she looks at her watch, “about two seconds. Hurry your asses up.” 

 

With that, you don’t need more convincing. You know that you could die, but you don’t really care. You’ve been in a box all your life, and if getting in another one is the key to being out of this prison, you’ll do it. You clamber in, Raven helping you strap in and get in the suit. You blush, and you don’t notice she does too.

 

Clarke is another story.

 

“Why the hell would I do that? You’ve lied to me before. Besides, the ground isn’t safe. We all know that.”

 

You groan. This is your one chance.

 

“Shut up and get in the damn pod, Clarke. Unlike the rest of you, I don’t want to spend my entire life in a fucking box.”

 

Clarke lets out a laugh, whether at your words or at Abby’s shocked face, you’ll never know.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

You and Clarke are released into space. Pulled into Earth’s orbit. 

 

You’re weightless and weighed down. 

 

You’re scared and amazed.

 

You’re flying and falling.

 

You’re sweating, but you’ve got goosebumps.

 

You’re shaking, but your hand has never been steadier than now, trapped in Clarke’s death grip.

 

You see light, but you see darkness.

 

You feel the cool sweat on your face, but you feel the warm blood trickling down the side of your head from when you hit it on the wall, jostled by the force of the machine.

 

You’re crashing, but you’ve never felt more alive.

 

You’re burning, but you’ve never been happier.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

You stir, your neck sore and you feel constricted. You move your arms, ignoring the popping of your bones to look at your friend. 

 

Clarke has her head lolled to the side, helmet cracked, and blood dried on her face. You can’t see her chest moving.

 

You quickly untangle yourself from the straps and your helmet, shaking Clarke.

 

“No. No. No, you can’t be dead. I did not come here with the most brave and stubborn person just for you to die on the way down.”

 

“Shut the hell up, O. You’re too loud.”

 

You huff, because you’re still worried. She looked dead.

 

She straightens up, and you notice that you’re still trapped in the pod.

 

***Your chest constricts. You feel like you can’t breathe, your lungs are crushed and your ribs puncturing them, forever disabling you to get enough air.

 

You feel like there’s a cinderblock on your chest. Like you’re being punched in the stomach. Like you might cry. Like you might die.

 

You start making rash movements, struggling against the suit that has become skin tight, limiting your air. You faintly hear Clarke, telling you to stop and calm down. You’ve started clawing at it, trying to rip it from your skin. Your breathing has become erratic, your vision has become blurry. You’ve become aware of Clarke restraining your hands. You’re fighting. Struggling. You’ve started kicking the door, ripping yourself out of Clarke’s grip. You think that it should hurt, that Clarke could be yelling at you. You kick at the metal, at the glass, and you hear things break. It spurs you on.

 

You don’t care about pain.

 

You just need to get out.

 

Now.

 

You’ve managed to kick the window enough that it broke. It can withstand space, but not you. You’ve started moving to it before Clarke can react. You dive out, landing on the nose of the pod before tumbling on the grass. You roll until you’re on your back, now struggling with your suit.

 

You don’t know how Clarke got out, but she’s pulled you on your feet and started to release you from the confines of the damn suit. 

 

***You’re out of that damned pod. As soon as the suit off, you feel like you can breathe again. You step out of it, and you walk a few paces before flopping on the grass to stare at the sky. You take a glance at Clarke.

 

Clarke busies herself with taking her suit off, and uses the glass to cut strips from it.

 

You give her a questioning look.

 

“Look at your arm. And your foot.”

 

True enough, they are both bleeding. Your arm looks more serious.

 

You poke and prod at the wound, hissing when you touch it, but your curiosity wins over pain.

 

“Stop it. You’ll make it worse.”

 

You huff. She walks over to you with strips of what used to be the suit sleeve, and ties it around the gash on your arm. You hiss, the wrapping is so tight your arm and leg are throbbing.

 

Clarke gives you a once over, hand on her hips, and lets out a defeated sigh.

 

"Clarke, I know this sucks, but look at the bright side!"

 

"What bright side!?"

 

"Uh, we're on Earth! Look around, Princess! Feel the goddamned sunshine!”

 

She lets out a bark of laughter, and the smile remains on her face.

 

It’s about time you see her smile. It’s been too long.


	3. Crimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhh let's ignore how old this fic is (i'm a busy person !! im sorry !!)
> 
> hmu im ddeanorus on tumblr, i change my username too much lmao

Clarke POV ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

You know that now things are going to get harder.

Octavia is off doing… whatever the hell she’s doing. Looking at butterflies, probably.

But you? You know you need a food source. You need water. You need a suitable place to live, hide, whatever other shit you might need.

You survey your surroundings. You’ve landed in some sort of clearing. It looks like you aren’t far from woods. 

You sigh. You didn’t prepare for this, and Octavia never went to any class, so she knows no Earth Skills. You doubt they can help, anyways. The teachers have never been on the ground, what would they know?

You look around, this time taking in all the details. 

Your pod is broken. The radio is smashed, the windows are broken from Octavia’s… panic attack? You don’t know. What you do know is there is a small crater where the pod landed, and smoke rising steadily from the pressurized air tubes, letting out a high pitched hiss. The grass is a vibrant green. In fact, the Earth is so colorful it hurts your eyes. 

There’s sounds that you only heard in movies on the Ark. You hear the rustle of leaves in the wind. You hear Octavia’s happy humming. You hear… silence. On the Ark, that was a foreign concept. There was always the whirr of machines, always the heavy boots of someone walking down the metal corridors. There was always chatter, always the sound of people. 

But here? It’s you, Octavia, the wind, and the decreasing sound of the wrecked pod hissing.

The smell is something that surprised you. You never thought of how the Ark smelled until now. It always smelled metallic, like faded cleaning products, like filtered and stale air. Down on the ground, she smells the sweet earthy tone of soil, the freshness of the air, the smell of being free.

Octavia isn’t doing much, just sitting there. You need to figure a few things out.

“How did you get figured out?”

“Bellamy. He took me out of the room for that masquerade party, and I got caught.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“We should probably set up camp or some shit.”

“Uh… I wasn’t in Earth skills.”

“Which is why we should gather all the crap here and move. Who knows what kind of things the pod could have attracted.”

“I thought everything was dead from radiation?”

“We’re here, aren’t we? Maybe it’s just me, but I think I’m still alive.”

“Jesus, Clarke. What’s stuck up your ass?”

You sigh. “I’m just tired and going through the shit with my mom. That, and what did I learn that I could actually use down here? All the information is outdated by a hundred years.”

Octavia slowly stands, making sure not to alter the bandage. “Well, let’s raid this bitch.”

You laugh. You’re glad she was sent down with you.

You and she grab all the things you may need from the pod. Neither of you are that good with building technology, and the radio is fried, so all you end up getting are a few articles of clothes, a medical kit, and some matches.

“Where do you want to go, Chief?”

“Why ‘Chief’?”

“I dunno. You never seemed to like it when Bell called you Princess, so I’m going with Chief.”

Okay. That’s not too bad. You are pleasantly surprised that she noticed the nickname made you uncomfortable. She is your best friend, after all.

“Oi, Chief. We should probably leave. It’s getting dark.”

She’s right. The sun is setting and the woods are growing more menacing by the minute.

Because you’re you, the woods is the best decision.

“Alright. To the woods.”

“Okay, no. That looks scary as hell.”

“A mutant flying bird-bear-gorilla sounds scary as hell too.”

“Okay, first, what even are those things? Second, what do you even know about the ground? For all we know there are giant spiders in the woods.”

“You’ve always liked the idea of an adventure, O. You up for a real one?”  
____________________________________________________________________________

You’re surrounded. 

By… people?

You were told there were no survivors.

You hear Octavia curse under her breath. “See Clarke? Forest equals bad.”

“Shut it, O.”

You raise your hands in surrender. The people around you are talking an another language, one you have no idea how to speak.

You really hope someone speaks english.

“Hello, my name is Clarke and this is Octavia,” you motion towards Octavia at her name, but it makes the people more aggressive, “we don’t want any trouble.”

“What crew are you a part of, Klark?” 

Thank everything in the stars above. Someone speaks english.

“You don’t have any markings.”

“No! I don’t! Because Octavia and I just came to Earth.”

The man who spoke english growled and brandished his sword. “Speak, girl. What clan are you from?”

“We aren’t from a clan! We lived in space!”

He lowered his weapon. “That cannot be. The Sky People are just legends.”

Octavia mumbled under her breath, “Well, I’m not a damn legend unless you let me live.”

You snort, trying to stifle your laugh. 

Back to focus. Don’t die.

“We are from the Ark, a space station. We were sent down on a pod to escape.”

“Escape? From what?”

“Our people kill for the smallest crimes. Mine was trying to save them, and Octavia’s was being born.”  
____________________________________________________________________________

You are led to the village, spears and swords pointed to your back.

Your hands are above your head in surrender, and you walk by houses with people emerging to take a look at the newcomer.

You don’t understand the language they are speaking. You don’t know whether they are talking about you, or going along with their normal day.

Your hands are yanked back, tied by what you think is rope.

Everything fades to black before you can make the connection of no trust and binding wrists.  
____________________________________________________________________________

You wake with your neck protesting its position.

You slowly gain feeling in your body, and you notice that you’re standing up.

Your ankles are tied to a pole, your hands hanging limply in their ties above your head.

You notice that you’re in a tent like structure. Interesting.

You hear a groan and the ties your hands are in shifts down.

“What the…” 

You think that’s Octavia,

“Is this some kind of bondage club?”

It’s Octavia.

She starts struggling against the rope, and it tightens on your wrists, causing you to hiss.

“Stop it, O. You’re going to saw my hands off.”

The tent flaps give way to a tall, glaring… you’ll call them Grounders.

She’s got black paint on her eyes. You’re going to guess it’s a war paint, or something like it.

“Who are you? What clan are you from? What are your intentions here?”

You have no idea what she’s saying.

You’re also kind of scared of her. You’ll call her War Paint.

You’ll introduce yourself.

“I’m Clarke-“

“Answer the questions, Clarke.”

“I don’t speak your language, please understand-“

“What clan are you from, Clarke? You bear no markings.”

“We, uh, came from the sky.”

“If I were you Clarke, I would tell the truth.”

“I am! I came from a space station called the Ark, and Octavia- my friend tied up with me- is from there too. We could even show you the pod we came down in!”

“Tell me, why are you here then, if you supposedly lived in space?”

“We were to be killed. We fled.”

“What were your crimes?”

Octavia murmured her answer before you could, and it angered War Paint.

War Paint growled deep in her throat.

Octavia raised her head and clenched her jaw, “My crime was being born.”


End file.
